Stuff My Stocking: M-M Romance Stories that are Nice and Naughty (3 page)

Stepping out of the pool, Anthony led Charlie by his dick to the poolside table. There he reached for a lotion dispenser which his mother always kept by the pool for when she was done sunbathing. After applying lotion liberally to his hands, he placed his hands on Charlie’s chest and started to slather the viscous formula all over his body. He smoothed it slowly over Charlie’s shoulders, kneading the muscles there, then down to his abdomen and finally, achingly, concluded by grabbing Charlie’s cock and pulling it, hand-over-hand, as if he was pulling taffy.

Charlie nearly bent in half backward in his desire to thrust his penis into Anthony’s masculine grip. He fell back against the patio table afraid that his shaking legs would no longer support his weight. And still Anthony continued to stroke, alternately gliding round and over the head of his penis. Anthony’s attentions grew to include Charlie’s balls which he squeezed and pulled. Charlie was going crazy, afraid that he might cum too soon and the experience would be over.

Eventually, Anthony’s attentions focused less on Charlie’s cock and more on the root of his penis leading back from his balls between his legs. Then Anthony stopped stroking him all together and instead slid his fingers between Charlie’s legs and buns to play with his asshole. As Anthony probed him deeper and harder Charlie became less concerned on his penis and more focused on how badly he wanted Anthony inside of him, even if it meant only his fingers.

Without warning, Anthony stopped and walked away. Charlie nearly fell to the ground pleaded for him to come back.

“Come over here,” Anthony insisted, grabbing a towel off one of the deck chairs and laying it out next to the pool.

“Where do you want me?” Charlie asked, fully prepared to comply with any further demand.

“Down here, on your hands and knees,” Anthony said with a mischievous smile.

Charlie bent low, laying his forearms on the towel and thrusting his hips high up in the air. He gritted his teeth not knowing what to expect. Anthony knelt behind him and applied a few experimental probes with his fingers tips, each one going deeper. Then Charlie felt Anthony’s penis slide up and down his crack in search of his anus before it slipped inside of him with a single smooth thrust. Charlie threw back his head and gasped in surprise and pain, but he did not pull away. He wanted this too badly, had dreamed of it too often to pull away.

As Anthony repeatedly thrust himself deep inside Charlie, Charlie reached down and began stroking himself. The feeling of getting fucked was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The sensations he was feeling were strong and oh so pleasing -- he didn’t want them to stop. He wanted Anthony to fuck him harder and deeper and finally unable to contain himself screamed out words to that affect.

Toward the end Anthony’s movements became more frantic and Charlie could tell he was going to cum before Anthony himself knew it. Then it happened, Anthony finally lost the fight and began to furiously pump his seed into Charlie. He called upon God repeatedly using lips that could barely articulate words. Charlie felt the muscles of Anthony’s penis convulse for what seemed like an eternity. The muscles of Charlie’s ass clamped down hard when he too achieved orgasm. Charlie screamed out. For a time all was suspended amid glorious sensation. Then as quick as it began it was all over.

To Charlie’s mixed relief and disappointment, Anthony slipped his penis from inside him and stood up. Charlie fell forward to lay on the bath towel in exhaustion. He heard Anthony dive into the pool and soon forced himself to rise and join him.

The two splashed and played together but something had changed between them. Their time together felt strained which it never had before. After only a few more minutes, Anthony jumped out of the pool to get dressed. Charlie wanted to make love again but when he approached Anthony he was brushed aside and told to ‘knock it off’.

Charlie got dressed and went home.

Over the next several weeks Charlie and Anthony had sex several more times; but in each case things were awkward with Anthony being overly anxious and clumsy, ultimately hurting Charlie in his rush to climax. During their love making sessions, Anthony refused to kiss Charlie and afterwards would jump into his clothes and want to go do something else as if nothing had happened between them. Eventually Charlie grew to avoid Anthony and when they were together to spurn his advances. It wasn’t until years later that he discovered Anthony was simply a poor lover.

By the end of the month Anthony was dating a girl named Carol and they didn’t see much of each other anymore. By the end of the year Charlie was working to graduate a year early in order to attend Stanford in the fall.

Over the years, Charlie took many lovers. But he never forgot his first. Eventually he settled down with just one man. On a return trip to Cedar Falls to introduce this man to his parents, he heard from a friend that Anthony had gotten married and had kids. He was happy for his old friend.

Leaning back on his parent’s sofa to lay his head on his partner’s shoulder, Charlie looked up into his lover’s eyes and smiled.

“What?” his partner asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just reliving some old, happy memories.”

And Charlie was happy; mostly, he was happy for himself.

THE END

Copyright ©2010 Brian Jackson

Also from Brian Jackson:

Blood Lust
(available January 2011)

Websites:

http://www.amazon.com/Brian-Jackson/e/B003SRFYJY

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/brianjjaxn

LEAKING PIPES by Deanna Wadsworth

Dear Santa,

My Christmas is looking very bleak indeed. All I want for Christmas is to get my pipes fixed, but all of the plumbers I've found so far are too damn pricey! I found this fellow in your picture listing, and I was hoping maybe you could hook me up with him, pretty please Santa?

Santa, if you would be so kind as to stuff my stocking for me, I'd be every so grateful!

{PHOTO INSERT: A cheeky rear view of a naked man on all four with his head under a kitchen sink fiddling with the pipes.}

***************************

 “Please you have to help me!” There was no other way to describe my voice but a desperate wail.

The owner of ‘Bubba -n-Sons Plumbing’ chuckled.

I wanted to jump through the phone and throttle him. “This isn’t funny! Water is shooting everywhere! It’s like frikkin’ Niagara Falls under my sink! I don’t have enough towels to absorb it all! It’s gonna destroy my flooring!”

“Sorry,” Bubba began again, his voice sober and soothing this time. “It’s not funny. Now did you turn off the waterline?”

“I’m an I.T. guy, not a plumber!” I growled.

He calmed me, then, proceeded to walk me through the rather simple steps of turning off the waterline. Much to my ire, I had to get under the spraying sink to do it. By the time I was done I was soaked from head to foot.

Drenched, I picked up the phone again and collapsed on the floor right in the deepest puddle. Water soaked through my jeans, but I was too upset to really care at this point. “Okay, I turned the water off, thanks. But I need this fixed. Like now. I’m having a dinner party tonight.”

“Well, its Saturday, that’s overtime, ya know,” Bubba informed me.

“I don’t care!” I wailed, flipping wet hair out of my eyes.

“I guess I can send over my son, Bubba Jr.”

“Thank-you.” I gave him directions, and hung up.

I took one look at my brand new kitchen and wanted to cry. Everything in the house had been perfect for the party. Like, Pottery Barn catalog perfect. People from work were coming. My neighbors, my sister and her fiancé, too. Every towel in my possession had been stuffed under the sink to absorb the water from the burst pipe, and now they were heaped on the floor in a soggy mess, just like me.

My pug, Skippy, came into the kitchen. He lapped at the puddle then looked up at me as if to say, “Is it all better, Daddy?”

“It’s a nightmare, Skip,” I told the dog as if he’d actually asked.

While I waited for the plumber, I quickly changed clothes. Then, I threw the first load of sopping towels in the dryer. The rest were still on the floor, more than likely too saturated to do more than prevent the water from spreading.

I was barefoot, wearing sweats and a T-shirt when the doorbell rang forty-five minutes later. Skippy started barking immediately.

“Quiet,” I ordered, rushing from the kitchen and stubbing my toe in the process. I cursed and opened the door, using my left foot to keep Skippy from escaping.

The words ‘It’s about damn time’ were on the tip of my tongue, but the moment my eyes alighted on the man in the doorway, I was stunned silent.

The plumber had to be the hottest man I had ever seen in all my life. Six feet of lean, sinewy muscle even a bulky, tan Carhartt and carpenter jeans couldn’t hide. A red baseball cap was pulled over cropped dark hair and he wore a lopsided grin on his gorgeous face. The green-eyed hunk looked like one of those plumbers in a beefcake calendar. A shudder went the length of my back. I could almost hear the cheesy porno music begin to play.

“You’re Bubba Jr.?” I blurted.

The man laughed, a deep throaty sound that went straight to my groin. “Actually, I prefer BJ.”

I almost said, ‘Yes, I’d prefer one of those too,’ but instead I just stood there, staring.

“Are you Sam Dreshler?”

I nodded, still staring.

“I’m here to check your plumbing,” he prompted, holding up a tool box.

“Um, yeah.” Feeling like an ass, I stepped aside to let him enter. Skippy saw an opening and darted forward.

“Whoa there, little guy!” Fast as lightning, BJ scooped up the escaping dog. “Looks like you got a runner,” he joked as Skippy licked his face wildly.

“Um, uh, thanks,” I stuttered, feeling inexplicably jealous of my dog just then. I’d never been jealous of Skippy before. Then again I really never wanted to lick the plumber before either.

BJ handed me the dog and stepped into the foyer. I felt a funny flutter in my gut and I wanted to kick myself for it. I was already stressed out about the party when the pipe burst, but now bumbling-nerd-me had to have a super hunk in the house.

Oh, why couldn’t Bubba Jr. be fat and ugly like his name suggested? Instead, he was gorgeous and tan, everywhere I was thin and pale. My last boyfriend called me a twink, but I don’t think he meant it as a compliment. I was five-six, blond and blue-eyed. I was decent looking, but next to this guy I felt lacking in every possible way.

“You wanna show me that leaking sink?”

“Um, yeah, right this way.” I gestured for him to follow, still holding the flailing, snorting Skippy.

BJ looked around with approval. “Nice place. You live here with your folks?”

I should’ve been insulted, and I kinda was. I knew I barely looked legal. When I went to buy the liquor for the party the attendant stared at my ID for a long time, convinced it was a fake.

“Um, no. It’s my house. I just moved in. I’m 27,” I added, though I don’t know why. Maybe just to justify myself to the hunk in my kitchen I was a man, too. Not some skinny kid. Why I cared was beyond me at this point.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s okay. I know I look young.”

He gave me that lopsided grin and a wink. “Nothing wrong with that.”

As I led him into the chain-o-lakes in my kitchen, I was inundated with his masculine scent. Not cologne, just pure sweaty male.

“Whoa! Looks like you had a gusher!”

“Your dad told me how to turn off the water so I think I managed to save my flooring but…” I gestured helplessly to the bucket under the sink and the piles of soggy bath towels. My breath became shaky once again.

As if sensing my distress, BJ gave me a smile. It went a long way to soothing my nerves. “Don’t worry, Sam. Let’s take a look see at what’s going on.”

BJ set his toolbox down and took off his jacket. His dark blue T-shirt was skin-tight and showed off an unbelievably broad shoulders and a narrow waist. And abs so flat they looked hollowed out. His carpenter jeans were slung low on those lean hips. He turned his red ball cap backwards and crouched down low, his thighs stretching the fabric of his jeans.

When he popped his head under the sink, the hem of his shirt inched upwards. I sucked in my breath.

Everyone made jokes about “plumber’s crack” but never before had I seen a plumber’s crack this fine. My dick swelled instantly and heat washed over my flesh at the sudden peek-a-boo of round ass cheeks above his waistband.

Oh dear lord, I did not need this kinda distraction today!

Skippy flailed a bit, bringing me out of my lust filled trance. Hastily, I set the dog on the floor and he raced over to the plumber, sniffing and prancing around as if the man were a giant plaything brought into the house just for him.

BJ didn’t seem to mind my spastic dog. “You gonna help me fix the sink, little guy?”

I bit my lip to stifle a whimper. Was there anything sexier than a man baby-talking a dog?

After he ruffled Skippy’s fur, BJ turned his attention to the sink. I stood four feet behind him, leaning on the kitchen island. He was on his knees but if he turned around his face would be on level with my crotch. That realization forced into my mind the vision of this man giving me a taste of his namesake. I swallowed the sudden, painful lump in my throat.

“The gaskets are old on the main line, that’s why she blew. Looks like you need a new trap, too, Sam.” BJ’s head was under the sink and his voice sounded muffled.

“Um, okay,” I said, not having any idea what that meant.

“Don’t worry. I’ll have this fixed before your guests arrive,” he told me, opening the tool box.

“Guests?” I repeated dumbly.

He grinned, a shock of white on a tan face. “You’re having a party, aren’t you?”

I looked behind me at the carefully arranged platters and wine glasses on the island. I chuckled at myself. “Um, yeah. Just my luck this had to happen today, huh?”

“You get ready for your party and I’ll get this all taken care of. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Yeah, easier said than done with such a hot hunk of man-flesh in my kitchen.

With a sigh, I left to retrieve the towels from the dryer.

Skippy had disemboweled one of his toys and was happily squeaking and shredding to his heart’s content. But that wasn’t what made me freeze in my tracks when I returned to the kitchen.

Heat suffused my groin at the sight of the deliciously displayed backside in front of me. BJ was kneeling, his head and shoulders inside the sink cabinet. His knees were apart and his back arched down so I had a clear view between his legs. The denim was pulled tight and the seam separated his balls, one on either side. My throat went dry, and I stared, wishing more than anything I could touch him. Run my fingers down his spine to the crack of his ass. Though in my fantasy, he was naked and his balls were hanging down, ripe for my mouth.

Oblivious of my return, BJ sat back on his haunches, and reached into his toolbox.

I quickly looked away before he noticed me staring at his balls like some horny pervert. Then I swapped the wet towels for the dry ones in my arms.

Get a grip.

BJ grinned over at me. “This made quite a mess.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I stuttered, sounding like a complete and total dip-shit.

“Don’t worry I won’t be here for your party,” he assured me.

I couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret that it was true. Insanely, I thought about inviting him. Was that lame? You didn’t invite your plumber to your dinner party, did you? He probably had a date anyways. A man as good-looking as him always had plans on Saturday night. If I said anything about my party, BJ and whatever big-breasted bimbo he was going out with would have a good laugh about some gay dude hitting on him.

As I dried the floor, I suddenly felt like I was being watched. When I glanced at BJ he averted his eyes almost immediately. If I didn’t know any better I would have sworn he was checking out my ass. I sniffed a laugh at my own stupidity.

Yeah right.

After I put the towels in the dryer, I began to prepare the appetizers. The party was still two hours away but I wanted an excuse to be in the same room with BJ. So as I cooked, he rummaged under the sink. Neither of us said anything. It was oddly domestic and comfortable. Though I wished I could come up with something clever to talk about. My mind was blank every time I noticed BJ, looking all sexy and manly with his wrench or whatever the hell tool it was.

I shook my head irritably at myself as I carried the food trays into the dining room. He was only here to fix my leaking pipes. And not the one starting in my tighty-whities.

“Jeesh, you’re such a moron,” I muttered under my breath. Bristling, I turned to head back into the kitchen and stopped dead.

BJ was reclining in my doorway, his shoulder against the door jam. His hip jutted out and to the side, displaying the rather sizable bump in the front of his jeans to my hungry gaze. Tan hairy arms were crossed over his chest. The red ball cap was still backwards and that sideways grin was back. I wondered how long he had been watching me. Had he heard me talking to myself?

Oh my god, I was such a dork!

“All done, Sam,” he said before slowly heading into the kitchen.

I allowed myself the pleasure of staring at his ass as I followed after him, feeling a bit like an eager puppy on his heels. His movements were like liquid sex and it made my dick grow a bit. I joined him by the sink, my pulse thumping, but I tried to act natural. “That was faster than I thought.”

BJ turned on the faucet, gesturing beneath the sink in a Vanna White move that had me chuckling. “Easy fix,” he said, turning off the water.

I sniffed a laugh. “For you maybe.”

BJ bent down to gather up his tools and his gaze flitted over the front of my sweats. I almost grinned until I realized my dick was poking out like a pop tent.Shit! I had a boner and BJ noticed!

Cheeks on fire, I hastily moved to the other side of the kitchen island. Dammit, what the hell was wrong with me? I willed my erection away but it was impossible with BJ bending over like that. Showing off that succulent ass.

To mask my embarrassment, I picked up a washcloth and wiped down the spotless counter-top. But my eyes kept betraying me by darting back to BJ’s ass while he cleaned up. I had to swallow a few times so I didn’t drool watching him move.

BJ closed the sink doors then turned to face me. I looked away at once, cheeks burning.

Double shit! He’d caught me staring at his ass!

I scrubbed at the non-existent stain on the counter harder, my face in flames.

“You’re nervous, Sam.”

I jumped.

BJ was right beside me. So close I could feel the heat from his body. Smell the PVC glue he had used and the manly hint of his sweat. I stared up at him, powerless to look away. My throat was too tight to speak, not that I was brave enough to try.

“First party in the new house?”

I managed a breathless chuckle. “That obvious?”

BJ set his toolbox on the counter, the move bringing him just a tad closer. I sucked in a tiny breath.

“You seem really stressed out.”

“Maybe a little…”

“I know the perfect way to relax, Sam,” he told me conversationally, running his long index finger on the edge of the granite counter. The gesture seemed lewd and suggestive.

I swallowed hard and looked back up at him. “You do?”

He was smiling at me. “Mmm, hmm.”

I wasn’t so clueless that I couldn’t pick up on the change in his demeanor. The heavy look in his eyes and the sudden roughness of his breathing. My pulse skipped and the blood flooding my face decided to take the long trip south to alert another part of my anatomy that BJ might be interested in checking out more than just the plumbing under my sink.